Morning

This forest enfolding

In its energy, its

Joy its sheer delight

For being alive this

Chill morn, not cold

But cool and the

Cockatoos burst forth

In loopy excitement

The still plants

Breathing in the damp

The cobwebbed shrubs

Iridescent with white

Dew cupped tendrils.

The sunlight reaching

Light up the tips

Of the trees, descending.

All receptive, all

Grateful, all

Wonderous in the 

Glory of this time

Condensation trembling

From my breath.

The breath of a

Morning arisen

Joyous, abundant

And whole.